Poorly George
by cybercheeseface
Summary: When George gets sick, Lady Mary feels like there's nothing left in the world for her to live for...
1. Chapter 1

**NB - I don't own Downton Abbey or any of it's characters. Please don't sue me, I'm poor!**

Lady Mary Crawley sat outside on a bench, her back to Downton Abbey, watching the fields turn a hazy orange in the looming sunset. Without realising, she was caressing her stomach, where the first bump of early pregnancy was beginning to protrude from under her clothes. It wasn't recognizable to anyone yet, the clothes Anna had picked out made sure that it was well hidden, her little secret, for the moment anyway. As much as Mary liked being pregnant, the idea of told to lie around in bed all day struck her as monumentally dull.

This child would be her third with Charles Blake.

It had been 6 years since her darling Matthew had died, and six since her miracle boy had been born. 5 years since she married Charles Blake in a modest ceremony at Downton. Thinking back on it, Mary laughed at what her old self would have thought of the quiet marriage they had had. In retrospect, she didn't care. The real reason was that she didn't want any memories of her wedding to Matthew to resurface and potentially change her mind whilst she married Charles.

In the five following years Mary had bore two girls, now aged 4 and 2. The elder had been called Lady Alice Caroline Crawley, and the younger Lady Grace Violet Crawley - to honour the late Dowager Grantham, who had passed in the spring before Grace's birth.

Out in the fields before her Mary watched her family run around after each other, playing what seemed to be an game crossed between cricket and stuck-in-the-mud. Alice and Grace worshipped their older half-brother, but somehow Mary always felt sorry for her son. There always seemed to be a glint of sadness in his eye when his half-siblings ran up screaming "Papa" at his step-father when he visited the nursery. Mary had vowed to give George the best upbringing she could possibly muster on her own, and any day the family spent together revolved around his desire to visit the pigs or see the ducks. For the moment, the girls didn't mind, and for now, when he was chasing his half sisters around a tree, everything seemed perfect to Mary.

Rubbing her hands over her stomach, Mary sighed happily. She hadn't found the right time to tell Charles of the new addition to their rapidly expanding family yet, but she knew he would be just as happy as she was about bringing another bundle of joy into the world.

Lost in thought of what to call the baby depending on the gender, Mary didn't realise George had arrived until he was attempting to climb into her lap.

"George!" She said with a start as she pulled him up into a hig. "I thought you were playing?"

"I was." The six-year-old shrugged "But now I am not." His answers were full of six-year-old wisdom. For a while they watched the rest of the family play.

"Do you not want to play?" Mary asked after witnessing Grace stumble over her own two-year-old feet one too many times.

"I'm tired Mama, I don't feel so good." George said, his big blue eyes - exact replicas of matthews - looking up into her dark ones sheepishly.

"Tired huh?" Mary replied. She was used to George vying for her attention, often pulling out the sick card. "We best call for Nanny to get you ready for bed then?"

"No! No, no no!" George insisted "I do not want to go to bed! I want -" He was cut off by his own hacking cough. Mary pulled out her handkerchief and held it up to George's mouth. He had been coughing up phlegm recently, but Doctor Clarkson said it was nothing, and she had no reason not to believe him.

"Still got that cough then?" MAry asked as she folded away the phlegm covered handkerchief. George nodded somberly.

"Sometimes it's hard to breathe." He said quietly.

"Don't worry George, if something was wrong Doctor Clarkson would have spotted it by now. He said you only had a cold my dear." She held his little hand in hers, which felt a little hot, but Mary assumed that was because he had been running.

When Charles carried their two girls over, Mary took them all back to the nursery for tea. In the back of her mind she thought that maybe George did look a little bit worse for wear, but her subconscious told her that Doctor Clarkson wold have told her if something was up and that she had to trust the doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles accompanied Mary down to dinner that night. He was a loving and attentive husband (if somewhat sensitive), but he was nothing like Matthew.

The only person not present at dinner was Rose's new fiancée, who had been taken ill with a cold. Mary chatted amicably with her mother, and attempted to keep civil conversation with her sister Edith, who had just returned from London.

"How was London my dear?" Cora asked her daughter

"Thriving as ever Mama, things are really beginning to get going again, ahead of the season." Edith smiled, and thought how sad it was that Edith didn't have a suitor. SHe refused anyone but Michael Gregson, who was still inexplicably missing.

With the vain hope of no one noticing, Mary had started to decline the wine that James was trying to serve her, she missed wine when she was pregnant. Much to Carson's happiness, everything seemed to be ticking along nicely until the door to the dining room was flung open by a very flustered looking nursery maid.

"Lady Mary! You must come at once! Master George!" She said between ragged breaths. When Mary stood up, so did the rest of the men around the table.

"George?!" She looked at the panicked maid "What is wrong with my George?"

"He's fainted m'lady." She said. For a moment, Lady Mary was frozen in shock but then maternal instinct took over and she ran from the dining room all the way up to the nursery.

"Where is he?" She almost screamed, a mixture of fear and panic rising with the pitch of her voice. "Where is he!"

"In his room m'lady."

Lady Mary swept through the door to her son's bedroom. Nothing that she could have imagined would have prepared her for what she saw.

Her son lay on his bedsheets. If it hadn't been for his dark trousers you could have mistaken him for the linen he was lying on. His breaths were shallow and irregular, his chest rising and falling at unimaginable rates, and then pausing for long periods of time. He forehead was shining with beads of sweat.

Mary's heart began to beat faster with every step she took towards her son. Her hands were going clammy and she could feel herself getting choked up at the sight of her precious boy. His nanny was holding a damp cloth to his forehead. When she touched him she understood why. George was as hot as the sun.

Lord Grantham stood in the hallway, ordering people around, instructing for Doctor Clarkson to be called and generally getting frustrated. Mary looked up, his sense of compassion heightened times a million. What he saw in his daughter's face, drained of any colour, and her eyes glistening with tears was the same expression that he had seen in his wife the night Sybil died.

"What happened to him?" Mary asked, her voice squeaking despite her vain attempt to steady it.

"After he got back, he started coughing and coughing more and then he coughed up blood. His phlegm had changed colour too, it's all grey." The Nanny picked up a different cloth to wipe the boy with. "He didn't eat much dinner and then we was sitting in front of the fire and he collapsed on me m'lady. I suspect...I mean...I don't want to frighten you but... I've seen it on one of me own m'lady... it's"

"I know, diphtheria." Lady Mary said, her voice faltering on the last syllable. "Papa, is doctor Clarkson coming?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for any comments that you leave! I really appreciate them!**

What felt like an eternity later, the doctor was ushered into the little boy's bedroom. He didn't stop to say hello to anyone, just moved Lady Mary off the edge of the bed and sat down to do his work. His assistant passed him various tools and pieces of tissue to wipe away the continuing beads of sweat that were appearing on George's forehead.

Lord Grantham put his arm around Mary, who stood stiffly beside him. She felt like if she ever bent her knees all her emotions would come flowing out as tears, and Mary did not like being depicted as weak by anyone, so she stood rigidly, as if she was pretending to be a pole. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife, Mary's hands trembled constantly, a reminder of how worried she was.

Through the door she could hear the happy chatter of Grace, Alice and their older cousin, Sybbie, playing dolls whilst finishing off their dinner, which had been interrupted by George. Mary found it difficult to understand how their happy chatter could continue when something so drastic was happening.

"Lady Mary, may I see Lady Grace and Lady Alice, and perhaps Miss Sybbie too?" Doctor Clarkson asked as he wiped his hands together.

"Certainly." Lord Grantham said, after Mary found herself incapable of talking, her eyes transfixed on her son, whose Nanny was wiping his head again. Mary was pulled away by her Father's guiding arm, to her raucous young girls, and cheeky niece, who smirked when they walked into the nursery.

Ordinarily, Mary would be delighted at the sight of her two daughters. Red-flushed faces from sitting in front of the fire, cheeky grins and sitting in their white nightdresses, their hair plaited, they really were the picture of perfection. But her mind was paralysed by the thought of her baby boy,, lying back through the door without her.

Doctor Clarkson was quick about his work. He was the sort of non-fuss doctor, the kind most people like. He got his assistant to shine a light down the girls throats and checked for any of the phlegm he had seen in George's, and then felt for any signs of fever. He was a pretty confident man, and when he was done he asked for Lady Mary and Lord Grantham to step outside.

Mary could feel her lip trembling - she knew she wasn't wrong with her diagnosis, her cousin Patrick had had it when they were little and anyway, when was she ever wrong?

"I'm sorry, it's diphtheria, we should have known earlier." Doctor Clarkson fumbled around in his big leather bag. "He must have caught it off one of the village children - you, we should have been warned." He passed the nursemaid behind them some pills. "Have him take one of these when he wakes up, it's for adults, but we're looking at something quite severe here." Mary lent onto her Father for support. She felt as if her whole world was crashing down around her.

"What are his chances of survival?" Lord Grantham said roughly, it sounded like he was trying to actively avoid crying too.

"We're looking at a 35% chance m'lord. He could pass on the disease for 2-3 weeks, so I can't be coming in and out in case I pass it on. In reality no one should be going in there, except for his nanny, we can't have a disease like that spreading." Doctor Clarkson said solemnly

"Two to three weeks?!" Mary exclaimed, outraged. "Doctor Clarkson, he's my son!"

"Mary, you know it's for the best." Her Father replied in hushed tones "we can't let you get sick too!"

"But...Papa...he's only...he's my..." Mary shrunk into herself as she leaned into her Father's warm chest. He rubbed her back, like how he used to when she'd fallen over when she was little. Lord Grantham thanked the Doctor, and sat Mary down before he walked the Doctor out.

Intuition told the girls not to approach their Mother, and they tiptoed into their bedroom to play the rest of their game. Sybbie hung around longer, sitting in the armchair opposite Mary, her eyes full of 7-year-old sorrow for her Aunt.

"Aunt Mary, George's gonna be okay!" She said quietly. Mary couldn't say anything to her, but nod. "D'ya want me to go and look at him for you? I'm sure he's got better now!"

"Oh, Miss Sybbie, don't trouble yourself." The nursery maid behind Mary said. "Lady Mary will go and check on Master George later, you can go and play with Lady Alice and Lady Grace."

"Okay!" Sybbie said happily, glad she had offered to help. She skipped to Grace's room.

"Thank you, Sybbie." Mary whispered, but the little girl didn't hear.

Mary's heart was torn. Her son was possibly dying, and she felt a new pressure land on her chest that made her jump out of her chair and run to her son, before she knew what she was doing.

Sitting on the stool by his bed and holding a damp cloth to his forehead, Mary felt that she was supposed to be there, as his Mother. For that whole night Mary refused to move, in case he woke and she was not there. No kind words from her Mother, chiding from Edith or harsh remarks from her Father could remove her. She understood the risks, but what is the point in being a Mother if you don't take risks?

It was 7am, Mary's mind had been blank for many hours, all emotion stripped away, any happy memories so far away in the back of her mind that they felt out of reach.

"Mary?" Charles said as he stuck his head around the door. His hair was still messy from bed, she should feel sorry for him, yesterday she had ignored his pleas for her to come to bed. She didn't quite have time to wipe away the cold tears before he was kneeling at her feet and wiping them for her. "My darling, you have been here all night. Let the nursery maid take over, please my love." He took hold and kissed her limp hand.

"I can't just leave him Charles!" Mary said quietly, never taking her eyes off her son. "I can't go...not now...not when he hasn't even..." Mary began to cry again, pinpricks of tears of extreme pain and tiredness after the long shift she had taken without sleep.

"Mary, you're still in your clothes from last night. At least come and let Anna run you a bath, you can get changed and have something to eat. Please my love." Charles pleaded

"Would you leave the girls Charles? What if it were Alice or Grace?! Say he wakes up?!" Mary started to shout. "All I want is for him to wake up Charles!"

"Mary, if something happens, they'll come and get you, you know that. Now my darling please, come with me, you're shivering!" Charles said as he stood up and pulled Mary into a standing position. Somehow, despite the protestations, Charles got Mary into her room and called for Anna, scared witless for his hysterical wife.


	4. Chapter 4

**So this is my 4th chapter, I'm absolutely stunned by the fact that people are enjoying it, thank you so much for reading/reviewing!**

Anna was worried about Lady Mary. She hadn't called for her last night, which was most unlike her. Sure, Anna knew George was sick, but George had been sick before and that hadn't stopped Lady Mary wanting her service throughout the night.

Now, as she walked up the servants staircase, with things for a bath, as requested by a flustered looking Mr Blake, Anna worried about what state she would find her mistress in, after encountering her husband. Thomas (or Mr Barrow - but Anna vowed she would never call him that) had claimed to have seen Mr Blake half carrying his wife back through the hallways from the nursery earlier this morning. He said that it looked like Lady Mary had lost her mind. Anna had almost slapped him, the cheek that he had to talk about a lady of the house like that.

But the truth of it was that Lady Mary did feel that she had lost her mind, and when Anna entered she saw what Thomas had meant.

Mary was curled up on the bed, still dressed in her purple satin frock from the evening before. It was crumpled around her, hitched well up above the knee, where her two legs were helplessly dangling off the bed. In an attempt to kick off her high heeled shoes, Mary had scuffed the back of the left one, and it was still dangling off the back of her heel. She heaved sobs with every intake of breath and hadn't even realised that Anna had walked in.

Feeling somewhat helpless, Anna put the bath things down in Lady Mary's bathroom and proceeded to unbuckled Lady Mary's shoes.

"Charles, I already said that I want to be left alone, I want Anna, I...I..." She broke down in tears again, and gulped in large volumes of air.

"Lady Mary, it's me, Anna." Anna said as she slipped the first shoe off Lady Mary's foot.

"Anna?" Lady Mary looked up. Tears were dribbling down her face, rolling off the end of her chin and soaking the dress below them. "Oh Anna...I'm so sorry...I..." Mary felt hopeless and she slid off the edge of the bed, ending up sitting down facing Anna. Her tears were childlike; vulnerable and honest. She reached forward to the kneeling Anna and hugged her, despite the social practices she was breaking, she knew that it could be forgiven, Lady Mary was on the brink of losing her first child.

Anna saw how weak her mistress had become, her vulnerability shining through in her eyes where her characteristic strength normally would be. The last time Mary had been like this was when Matthew had died, but this, Anna felt, was twenty times worse. Before, Lady Mary had turned cold towards the outside world, to the point of outright dislike for her baby boy, but now she had overcome that, Lady Mary had learnt to love little George as much as she had loved Matthew, to lose George would be like losing Matthew all over again.

"Would you like a bath m'lady?" Anna asked as she took Lady Mary's hands from behind her back. When Lady Mary nodded Anna rushed into the bathroom, to catch her breath before she returned to Lady Mary, allowing the bath to fill up.

Lady Mary was sitting at her dressing table. She had stopped crying, possibly because she had run out of tears, but also because she felt so hollow, like there was nothing left to give. She was gazing intently, but at the same time not really seeing the picture in front of her. A framed photo of George and Matthew, together for the first and last time on the day of his birth.

"What would you do Anna?" Lady Mary whispered as she touched Matthew's face in the picture.

"What would I do m'lady?" Anna asked as she approached the shivering Lady Mary.

"For my baby, for George?" She asked as she put her head in her hands and exhaled. Anna didn't know what to say. She had been in some pretty compromising situations, like her husband being in death row, but they didn't have children. Anna still knew to lose someone that close to you was to lose a part of you, and Lady Mary had already had her heart broken by Matthew's death, George's death would ultimately kill her. In short, Anna had no idea what to say.

Lady Mary looked up into the eyes of Anna through the mirror in front of her. What Anna saw was the saddest thing she had ever seen, the eyes of someone so desperate to hold onto something so small, to have the grasping hope of anything good left in their lives, but having nothing left to hold onto.


	5. Chapter 5

Lady Alice had long brown hair that shone golden in the light if she sat at a certain angle. She sat alone in the nursery, playing with the mirror and light at the dressing table, attempting to get it to go golden. Alice liked to pretend she was a beautiful English princess, with long golden hair that reached onto the floor, like the story "Rapunzel" that her Mama had told her a while back. She mimicked taking a tiara on and off, imagining it was the one that her grandmama - Lady Grantham - had shown her once in the library.

From her vantage point, Lady Alice could see the entire perimeter of the nursery, and she let her eyes scan from the leather armchairs facing the roaring fire, across the cupboards lining the wall at the opposite end to her and watched a nursemaid tidy up the dolls she had carelessly disregarded. Sybbie, Alice's favourite (and only - as far as she was aware) cousin was taking her afternoon lessons with their Governess that Alice was too young to attend and her little sister was napping, leaving the four-year-old helplessly bored.

She stared out the window, her mind wandering as she glanced at the grey clouds dominating the dark sky. It had been raining all day, in a way that her Governess would call "half-heartedly", or as Alice thought, like it couldn't be bothered to fall properly, just like how Grace couldn't be bothered to play with her properly before she went for her nap. Alice didn't care about rain, she really wanted to be outside with one of her parents, but everyone was too preoccupied with her half-brother, George.

Alice knew that George was sick, but that was all she knew. Nanny had spent all her time with him for the last week, and when she had asked anyone for information they all said the same thing - "He's too sick to see you Lady Alice, don't bother about that anymore". Alice was upset by the news, she was besotted with George, and missed their rough-and-tumble games.

As Alice was lost in thought about something trivial, the door to George's room was opened and her Mother stumbled out, clutching her face. SHe was breathing heavily, and about to burst into tears. Being 4, Alice couldn't tell when an adult was sad, so she ran up to her Mother, feeling rather pleased because she was under the misconception that Lady Mary had come out to play with her and not be with George.

"Mama!" Alice squealed as she hopped down from the dressing table stool and hooked herself onto her Mother's dress. "Please play with me! Please please please!"

Lady Mary looked down at her daughter, her expression cold and unforgiving. She beckoned for the nursemaid to pick up her daughter, who had let go of her Mama, and was now sitting on the ground, tears forming in her eyes. Alice was under the impression, from her Mother's chilling look, that she was in trouble. The nursemaid picked up Alice, who's bottom lip began to tremble as Mary ran out of the room, so her daughter didn't see her crying.

"Mama?" She whispered to the nursemaid

"Lady Alice, Lady Mary is far too busy with Master George to play any silly games with you." The nursemaid said as she carried Lady Alice into her bedroom and lay her down on the bed.

"But she never plays with me! She's always with George!" Alice wailed "Doesn't she love me anymore?!"

"Lady Alice! That is a terrible thing to say! Of course Lady Mary loves you! You are lucky I don't go and tell her what you just said. You need to stay here and think about that." And with that the nursemaid had stormed out of Alice's bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Alice had never really like that particular nursemaid anyway, her favourite had left last year. She folded her arms and thought about the situation.

To Alice, it was clear that her Mother no longer loved her. But why could that be? She hadn't done anything that would make her despise her in the way that the look she had given Alice depicted. In fact, Alice hadn't really seen her Mother at all for a week. The only person her Mother had been with constantly was George. That was it! George was brainwashing her Mama into hating her!

For the first time in her life, Alice began to feel sibling hatred towards her half-brother. Why would he do that to her?

Alice felt like she should cry, she knew that's what Grace or Sybbie would do. But, in fact, Alice was much more like her Mama in her confidence than she could ever imagine. Instead of being a pathetic crying lump, Alice decided she would give George a piece of her mind.

Alice knew she was smart enough to get around the mean nursemaid. She had done it before, when she wanted to cuddle with her parents at night, before her Mother hated her, obviously. She opened her bedroom door silently, perfectly executed. Not even Alice heard the door creak when she slipped past it.

The next bit was hard. Alice had to dash as fast as her little legs could carry her to the other side of the room, behind an armchair that was directly opposite George's room. Luckily she made it, but only just. The nursemaid had thought she saw a flash before her, but she put it down to her weak eyes playing tricks on her.

Alice caught her breath and looked at the door to George's room. It was ajar, where her Mother had come streaking out. Alice could see Nanny bustling around inside, but Nanny liked her so when Alice slipped inside, she didn't care about being seen.

She sauntered up to the bedside, taking Nanny by surprise.

"Oh! Lady Alice! You gave me a fright!" Nanny said as she dropped a damp rag.

Alice was standing on her tiptoes, she wasn't tall enough to see over the edge of the bed yet.

"Is it George?" She asked as she attempted to look.

"Yes m'lady, but you know he's sick?" Nanny said as she looked down on the child

"Yes," Alice weighed up her options "Will you let me see him?" She asked finally.

"It's not a good idea m'lady. You may get sick too." Nanny shook her head

"Please! I haven't seen him for a week and I need to tell hims something!" ALice pleaded. Eventually the Nanny relented and pulled Alice up into her lap.

Her big brother was definitely sick. His skin was partially tinged grey, and there were beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. Alice's mouth dropped open. She didn't know why he looked like this. All her anger had evaporated. SHe knew why her Mother didn't want to play - not because she hated her but because she was so worried for George.

"Is he still awake?" Alice asked - she didn't know what the word for dead was.

"He's not dead m'lady, only sleeping." The Nanny reassured her

"He'll wake up?" ALice said

"We hope so m'lady." The Nanny said sadly.

Alice's eyes began to prick with tears. The Nanny hugged the little girl close.

"Mama doesn't hate me?" Alice said

"No Lady Alice, your Mama doesn't hate you, she just has to care for Master George for the minute so she can't play." The Nanny whispered "Lady Mary would never hate you."

Alice began to cry tears of sheer relief mixed with tears of sorrow for her brother, into the apron of her Nanny.

"Here, Lady Alice, let's say a prayer for Master George." The Nanny said as she clasped the little girl's hands together, and they prayed for the saviour of the little heir.


	6. Chapter 6

Lady Mary Crawley was desperate. She hadn't moved from her son's bedside in 3 days, opting to sleep, eat and generally live next to him in a chair. Her family was worried about her and numerous times they had tried to remove her but she stayed put. Her domineering nature overriding their concerns.

Mary enjoyed being her son's nurse. She felt like Sybil, her sister, who had worked as a nurse in the Great War, long before either of them had considered having children. Being back in the nursery also brought back painful memories of her and her dead sister playing together when they were little. George's room had been Sybil's originally (obviously it had been redecorated for her son) so the mix of having her sick son lying in the same room where her dead sister had lain made Mary feel even more uneasy than she would do normally.

Mary slept away most of the days by her son. She always made sure to sleep with his hand in hers, in case she felt any movement from her otherwise lifeless boy. During this specific nap, Lady Mary hadn't been dreaming, like what she normally did. She was relatively peaceful - calm, even - in her sleep, so much so that even Nanny had left the two of them alone when she tried to approach Lady Mary for luncheon.

It was about 2pm when Lady Mary was awoken by a sharp intake of breath. She sat bolt upright, defensive of her son. No one had entered the room, it seemed to be in the immaculate state that she had left it when she had closed her eyes briefly, for a nap. Mary decided it was nothing, and lay her head back down by her son's side, attempting to sleep away her worries.

"Mama?"

It was so quiet that had a pin dropped Lady Mary would have missed it. She was immediately awake.

George had spoken.

"George?!" She said back, almost hysterical with relief. She watched as her baby boy's bright blue eyes opened to look at her. She could feel her eyes brimming with tears, this, this was the moment she had been waiting for, and she had no reason to want to share it with anyone else.

"I love you George." She whispered to him, the first tears began to fall.

"Don't cry Mama, you know I love you too." Every word seemed to take George so much effort. He wheezed out his words one at a time, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak full sentences, he just concentrated on one word after another.

Mary rubbed her son's hand, conscious of the fact that she couldn't hug him in case she hurt him in some way.

"Am I sick?" George wheezed.

"Yes darling, but you're awake now, you will get better, my love, you can get better." She whispered, not making any effort to hide the tears that were openly falling down her face.

"Is Alice or Grace sick?" George said

"Don't worry about your sisters, worry about getting yourself better." Lady Mary said indignantly

"Are they Mama? What about Sybbie? Is she sick too?" George wheezed, desperate for answers

Mary sighed, she was not capable of denying her son anything.

"No, sweetheart. They're all fine." Mary said, appreciating her son's thoughtfulness for others. At this news George relaxed back into his pillow, and his mouth twitched into what looked like the biggest smile his body was able to produce.

"I'd rather be sick than let anyone else be sick." He whispered as he wiped his Mama's tears off her cheeks. Mary removed his hand from her face, worried about him exerting himself.

George started to cough again. Mary caught the bloody phlegm in a towel next to his bed. She wiped his head, and smiled, bringing in a fresh new wave of tears as she did so.

"I'm hot." George announced.

"Oh, darling." Mary shouted for Nanny, who came rushing into the room with everything in her arms for every type of emergency. When she saw George awake, attempting a smile, her face filled with colour and a disbelieving smile came across her face.

"No!" She whispered. Mary nodded, and took the wet towels out of the Nanny's hands, pushing them to George's burning forehead.

"Can you get Doctor Clarkson?" Mary asked, and the Nanny just shook her head, far beyond words.

Mary patted George's head with the cold towel. He smiled at his Mother and closed his eyes for a second.

"Will you tell me a story?" George asked, reopening his eyes.

"A story?" Mary asked, and George nodded. Lady Mary had to wrack her brains for a story she knew off by heart, eventually she opted for Rapunzel, her favourite story as a child.

As she recounted the story, more and more people rushed into the room. First her parents, including her Father - Lord Grantham - who literally had tears in his eyes when Little George opened his eyes to look at his grandparents. Next her husband came and knelt at her side, putting his arm around her in a protective embrace. Then Edith, who sat at the window and watched as George smiled at different parts of the story.

When Mary reached the end of her story George reopened his eyes and looked at her. It haunted her how blue his eyes were, for a moment his face transformed into Matthew's.

"I'm going to sleep now." George announced. And then his breathing was back to normal, his chest rising and falling like it should do. He was still hot but he was breathing.

The Nanny took the cold towel Lady Mary had in her frozen hand and held it to George's forehead. Lady Mary could do nothing but turn to her husband for support. He held her protectively to his chest, wrapping his arms around her whole body. Lady Mary sobbed not only for her son and his terrible illness, but also for the long buried grief of losing Matthew that had just been resurfaced in seeing his face in George's eyes.

By the time Doctor Clarkson had arrived Lady Mary was exhausted. Lack of sleep and worry left her mentally drained. Whilst he assured Mary that George's brief awakening was a good thing, he still had a long way on the road to recovery. But that still struck Lady Mary as a good thing, so she allowed herself to be taken away from her son and get some proper sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

"Lady Mary please wake up, please, please!"

Lady Mary awoke with a start. Anna was shaking her shoulders, urging her out of bed. Behind her she could she Charles loitering in the doorway. Everyone was wearing their dressing gowns.

"Wha-? What time is it?" Mary rubbed her eyes.

"Mary, please, that doesn't matter." Charles said abruptly, cutting off Anna before she had a chance to respond.

"What's happening?" Mary said as she took her dressing gown off Anna.

"It's Master George m'lady." Anna said quietly as she helped Mary down from the bed. "He's worse again."

"What?!" Mary half-shouted "But the doctor said! The doctor- he said he was getting better!" Mary ran at Charles, grabbing his arm.

"The doctor was wrong Mary." Charles said as he looked down at his desperate wife.

"NO!" Mary shrieked as she ran off down the hallway, towards the nursery. All Mary could hear was her brain accusing her of neglecting her son, letting him die at the hands of a Doctor which had now repeatedly diagnosed him wrongly.

_Neglect._

_How could you leave him to die Mary?_

The nursery door was wide open and Mary burst into her son's room. It was packed with people. That was when she heard it. The wailing. Someone was screaming as if their legs were being chopped off.

"NO!" Mary shrieked, her eyes unable to focus on anything because of the number of nurses and doctors in the room. "NO! GEORGE!"

George's cries were still ringing loud in her ears. His body was shaking violently and he was frothing at the mouth. The four doctors were crowded over him, using various machines to try and fix whatever was going on.

Lady Mary felt hands attach themselves to her arms. Lord Grantham and Charles were restraining her, to prevent her getting in the way of the Doctors working furiously over her son. Lady Mary was crying hysterically, twisting and turning in the tight grip that was holding her back.

"LET GO OF ME!" Mary screamed "HE'S MY SON!"

It seemed like everyone was ignoring Mary. All she could see was his little body convulsing on the bed in front of her. Screaming and tears got her nowhere, so in the end when her body gave up, Lady Mary let herself drop to the floor and sob. She cried until there was nothing left inside but a raw emptiness, her irises had turned a threadbare scarlet and her eyeballs hung heavy in their sockets. Her whole body hung limp, as if each limb weighed twice as much as it had before.

Charles did the only thing he knew to do, and that was to act as a rock for his wife. He sat beside her and put her limp head in his lap, stroking away the endless tears that fell.

The doctors stepped away from George when they had managed to stop his violent body jerking. They invited Lady Mary, Charles and Lord Grantham outside.

"He's worse." Doctor Clarkson said blatantly. "He's got an infection. I can't tell you what. What I can tell you is that there's not much chance of survival. He's strong, but the tablets we give him won't do anything except make him sleep, which is for the best. He has to fight through this." Doctor Clarkson nodded and Mary wept silently, her whole world falling to pieces around her.

"I'm so sorry Lady Mary." The Doctor said. "It might be worth bringing him to the hospital in a few days so we can keep a closer eye on him, but only when I think it's safe for him to travel. I know it's not far - but any damage could be long lasting."

When the Doctor had concluded and was shown out Mary ran back to her son. He was sedated, peaceful at last, but Mary knew that it wouldn't last for long just due to the raw shade of his complexion. The rest of the doctors showed themselves out, leaving behind two nurses. They sat on chairs by the dresser watching the machine the doctors had set up, waiting for the occasional, mechanical yet somehow reassuring beeps meaning that George's heart was still beating.


	8. Chapter 8

**A few of you have mentioned that I have incorrectly given the two girls titles of "Lady" instead of "The Honorable"! Thank you so much for doing so, but I'm not going to change it now because I feel like we are too far into the story!**

**Also thank you all for bearing with me! I know I haven't written in a while (I've been super busy) and every time I try to write the site crashes! But so we move forwards! Also if you have twitter I highly recommend following baby_crawley because the tweets are great!**

**Anyway, on with the tale...**

Lady Mary sat on the edge of her bed, watching Anna bustle around the room. Without realising, she was cradling her pregnant belly. In the recent weeks following George's illness, Mary had been acutely aware of her expanding stomach. She didn't want George to know that she was expecting, for if he did he might feel like the new baby was a replacement, for he was still gravely ill.

Mary wasn't dressed yet. Most mornings she felt intensely aware of the little time she had left with George, if he were to die, but today the growing child in her belly was more worrying to her.

"M'lady, do you think it is time to get dressed?" Anna beckoned from the dresser, where she was holding up one of Lady Mary's maternity dresses. Mary snapped from her worrying, her face stern.

"Why have you got that dress out Anna?" She snapped.

"I felt...it would be appropriate m'lady." Anna stumbled over her words, looking at the floor.

"It is not." She snapped.

"I will get another, Lady Mary, I am dreadfully sorry." Anna nodded her head, and scurried out of the room. Mary was alone and wondered around her room until she got to her mantlepiece, where all her greatest treasures resided. Her last photo of her and Matthew, when she was pregnant in Scotland took pride of place. She fingered the bone structure of her late husband, in an attempt to relive their greatest memories. She moved away, too afraid of the pain that the memories had the ability to cause.

Mary recoiled as she sat down in the chair opposite the dresser, clutching her stomach. She had felt something. The baby had kicked her. She was sure of it.

'No' Mary thought as she leaned forward onto the polished surface of dressing table. 'Please no.'

She started to cry.

It was as if for all these weeks Lady Mary had only been able to cry, her emotions always coming out in one big wave. She shuddered, her eyes going a shade of unsightly red and puffing at the edges.

That was when Anna walked back in the room to see her mistress crumpled over at the dressing table. Crying was not an unusual sight for Anna anymore. She laid the clothes down on Lady Mary's bed, and touched her mistresses' shoulder, to which Mary jerked upright.

"M'lady, are you alright?" Anna asked

Mary couldn't say anything. It was a mixture of love, hate, anger, sadness, resentment that Mary felt for this child.

"I can't have him know..." She whispered

"About the baby?" Anna knew Mary was talking about George, even though she had never directly expressed her fears, Anna had an intuition that just told her.

"I can't have any of them know..." She whispered. "Even if George does go to the hospital tomorrow, surely he'll still be told...I can't risk him finding out and him feeling unloved. I can't do it to him Anna."

Anna moved away from Lady Mary, picking up the blue day dress she had picked out. She knew it was going to be too small for Lady Mary at this stage in the game.

"Are you sure you want to wear this?" Anna asked quietly, to which Mary nodded.

When Anna started to slip the dress on without a corset Mary was outraged.

"Where is my corset?" She shouted.

"Lady Mary, you cannot wear a corset, you will damage the baby!" Anna exclaimed. It was the first time she had actively retorted what Lady MAry had said.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Mary said as she lay down on her bed, her hands over her face. "They'll know Anna!" Anna had nothing to say. When Mary sat up her face was pale.

"I'll have to tell them." Was all Mary whispered as she directed Anna to fetch the maternity dress left draping over the mirror.


	9. Chapter 9

It was almost dinner time, and Charles stood outside the door of Mary's room, waiting for his wife to finish her last preparations for dinner. He rubbed his hands nervously, apprehensive of what state Mary would be in.

Anna exited the room, quietly closing the door behind her. That was his cue to retrieve his wife from their bedroom. He opened the door, standing in front of it to let Mary out.

"Charles come in a moment." Mary called. She was in the bathroom. Charles sat in an armchair by the fire, watching the flames lick the logs of all their flammable goodness.

When Mary flocked out the bathroom, she ran over to shut the door. Charles stood up, and turned to her.

Mary was wearing a red dress that bulged at the stomach. Charles thought she looked quite fetching. Where had he seen that dress before?

"Charles I have something quite important to tell you." But his wife didn't look happy as he helped her over to a seat.

"Please, my love, what is it?" He urged as Mary directed her sad gaze towards the fire.

"I'm with child." She whispered, one tear falling from her left eye.

It was as if Charles' world had lit up. One moment he had been scared of what the world could hold , but now at last, there was light. He swept his wife into a massive hug.

"My darling, this is fabulous news!" Charles beamed, kissing his wife on her head multiple times.

"No, Charles it is not." Mary sighed. It was then that Charles could feel her limp body in his arms, and he let her go. Mary rested back into the chair, watching the fire. "George...he might think this child is a replacement."

"Mary, look at me." Charles took her hands in his. Mary reluctantly looked over to her husband. "Children are not replacements for one another." Mary sighed. "Regardless, you know what George is like the best. He will see this as a blessing, not a replacement. George loves people, George will love his new brother or sister. He will know it." Charles smiled at his wife. "There is no doubt in my mind that we should be looking on this as a blessing, children are blessings, and this new one." Charles put his hand on his wife's stomach. "Will be a constant reminder of that. Nothing can replace George, but he's not dead, nor is it likely that he will die yet. My love, every child God grants us with is special in their own right."

"Oh Charles." Mary fell back onto her husband, sighing in relief. Charles could be so clever and level-headed when he wanted to be.

"Now my dear, we should tell the family." Charles smiled at his wife, tapping her nose.

"You go, I should tell George." Charles helped Mary from her seat, treating her extra carefully now he knew that she was with child. At the door, before they parted, he kissed her nose and her stomach, declaring that he loved "you both" before he almost skipped down the hall to dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

Charles rubbed his hands together as he stood nervously in front of the drawing room door. He had been married into the Grantham Estate for a long time now, but he still felt nervous bringing attention to himself in front of the Earl. His main concern was that he still wasn't accepted entirely by the family, and as much as Mary tried to stop him thinking this, his mind couldn't shake the suggestion of pity.

Nevertheless, today was the third time he would be announcing fantastic news, another Crawley-Blake child. Secretly, Charles hoped it would be another girl, although he felt Mary's longing for another boy in the nursery to accommodate the ever-raucous George. Charles had never really been a boys boy and rather liked the thought of three beautiful daughters - as the Crawleys themselves had once had.

Charles banished all thoughts to the back of his mind as he opened the door to the drawing room and poured himself a scotch.

"Alright, Charles?" Tom Branson slapped him on the back affectionately.

"Yeah, yeah." Charles cleared his throat, trying to mask his smile. "Yeah we're good, been to see Sybbie today?"

"Unfortunately not. Big business in the village that I had to attend to, y'know? Still, I promise myself I'll take her out tomorrow." Tom smiled, clinking glasses with Charles, then he looked around. "So, is Mary not with you?"

"Erm, yes, she's just finishing up." Charles said as he took a sip. As he looked back up from his drink Lord Grantham had wandered over, to pour himself another drink.

"Charles!" He said, turning around to look at the two young men. "Dear me, where is Mary?"

"Upstairs" Charles replied.

"Is she with George again? I'm telling you, she needs a rest that girl, she'll make herself sick with worry for that boy." Lord Grantham said

"He is her son..." Tom replied quietly

"As true as that may be, she's got enough servants up there to look after a hospital of sick boys." Lord Grantham swirled his drink around in his glass. "Shall I fetch her?"

"No, I mean yes, she's with George but she has good reason to be." Charles looked up from the yellow liquid in his glass. "You see, she's gone to tell George that we are having another baby."

There was stunned silence. Then Lord Grantham was shaking Charles' hand.

"Charles! That's fabulous news!" He roared, turning around to face the other people in the room, mainly his wife. "Everyone! Mary and Charles are having another baby!"

There was a chorus of ooh's and ahh's as the ladies took in the news. Tom shook Charles' hand.

"Congratulations." He said almost sadly. "You are a very lucky man."

"Thanks Tom." Charles replied as he was beckoned over to Lady Grantham.

"Tell me Charles, how many months is she along?" Cora asked, patting the seat for him to sit next to her.

"Oh, I don't know. From the other pregnancies I've watched her go through I'd say 3 maybe?" He replied cautiously.

"It's fabulous news my dear." Cora smiled "Another child to add to the growing nursery."

Then Carson announced dinner and Charles was swept through by Rose asking countless questions about babies, much to the discomfort of her fiancee. Cora and Robert hung back, holding hands and smiling.

"Well that made my day." Robert said

"Oh darling, another child, lucky Mary." Cora beamed

"Lucky us! Lucky the children! This is just fabulous." Robert squeezed her hand.

"The children," Cora's face fell. "you don't think that George will feel like this is his replacement?"

It hadn't even crossed Robert's mind.

"No," He said suddenly and pulled his wife into dinner.


End file.
